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Samus drifted slowly towards awakening. Her armour was gone. Her back was a mess of deep throbbing shards telling her that long cuts spread from her shoulders down to the small of her back. There was a tangle of pain and uncomfortable heat just to the left of her ribs. She had never felt this bad. Suddenly, the heat lanced under her chest, burning its path up to her neck, throwing a spasm through her body. Her limbs reacted, and she smashed backwards against a vertical wall. This only enraged her wounds. Her mouth opened, and issued a soundless scream. The mere action of opening her mouth set off a shock, which navigated the network of nerves leading around her face. A blood vessel in her left eye burst, and her iris gained a streak of bright shocking red . She slumped forwards again, and slipped into a world of pain. Through dim eyes, images flashed. Images blurred with agony. People arrived. Her monochrome view changed, she was facing the floor. Now she could map throught the pain. Two patches of non-feeling were installed, and the fires intensified. She was dragged upwards, to the vertical. Her mouth and eyes were closed. As her dim awareness informed her that the people had left. In that instant, the pain vanished. She could feel nothing. The universe spun on. After the moment of pure ecstacy, the hurt returned, but reduced to a dull, manageable ache . Now she was only aware of a blissfull cool, spreading over her body, and a blue glow that permeated past her eyelids. Her head was clear, but when she tried to open her eyes, she couldn't. Panicking, she tried to thrash around, but her limbs would not respond. After what seemed like hours, she fretted away into unconsciousness, barely noticing a weight on her shoulders.
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With a groan, Samus again reached the relm of the living. That she could groan suprised her, and her eyes flashed open. Her amour was in an ordered heap about three feet away, carefully disassembled and laid out, component by component. Taking stock of her surroundings, she saw little else besides a small chair, a plain slab of metal (which she assumed to be a door). To her surprise, her wrists were manacled. Luckily, she held them in front of her. She staggered upright, each joint complaining, and her shoulder blades felt strange, not painful. Lines of fire ran up and down her spine, and dimly, on the edges of her perception. She noticed that the pain quickly abated when it reached about level with her collarbones. Her forearms now sported a plain jet weave pattern, which had been tattood on, since they were sore. She took a few steps, as far as her chains would allow, and overbalanced. She gently sat down, placed her arms round her knees, and began to think.
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[SSB-Mod version]
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Within a few minutes, the slab of metal shot upwards, revealing a short, unimposing man, dressed in a generic dark green coverall. He stepped forwards, and the door closed itself with speed. The man's features were enclosed, since he wore a facemask and goggles tinted the same colour as his tunic. Only his cropped brown hair was visible. He stood motionless for about thirty second, regarding the prone figure he had walked in on. Energy reserves gone, she was content to let him look. He stepped forwards another pace.
'Do you remember?' Samus was in no mood for this. She had her own game to play.
'No.' That was her only answer. Of course, it was a lie. But he hadn't asked what.
'Good. But...I see you have retained some free will. I pray that will not be a problem.' That comment did not seem to have an answer.
'You are aware of your rights?'
'Yes.' This earned her a jolting shock from her wrists.
'NO! You are not! You have no rights! You are the property of my employers! ...and you have been marked as such. Follow me'. She was about to make a scathing remark about her chains, but halted. The manacles had detached themselves, and now adorned her arms like bracelets. Only now, she noticed that, while thick and metallic, the rings were ornate. In the cities, you would pay a small animal for objects of this craftmanship. Confused, she mulled over the inconsistencies, and wandered after the little green-clad walking ego.
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After a multitude of turns and corridors, she was shown into a room which was paradise compared to her previous accomadation. It contained everything you would expect of a dormitory, and a rather upmarket one, at that. She entered, and was locked in. The small panel above the door that read 'locked' gave her this tidbit of information. She instantly scanned around for a mirror, but could not fins one. She had an overwhelming desire to find out how bad she looked. One corner was filledby a rather overlarge cupboard. This contained a suit of ablative armour, much like her own, but designed by a different hand. Instinct drilled into her by generations of mentors, governments and targets forced her to look at the technical side of the suit first. The cannon did not assume it's customary position over her left hand, so she would have both free for manipulation. Instead, a variety of smaller beam weapons and missile packs were installed in unobtrusive areas all over the suit. At an estimate, it had three to four times the firepower that she was used to. down the back were a series of spines, each one a nerve centre of sub-plating circuitry. It was the work of moments to anylase their power drain. The figure was ever so slightly greater than the entire capacity of her old suit. Now she stepped back and examined the suit's architecture. It was easily three inches taller, and was two-toned green, instead of her accustomed red and yellow colour combination. Everything was more pronounced, and even the shoulder pads were covered in dull spikes. Down the forearm plating, the weave of black that she aquired as a brand, was present in white. Emblazoned on the chest was a dragon/chains motif, not strictly in the best possible taste. One thing about the suit haunted her. The helm was not a dome and visor arrangement, but was a sculpted beauty with black eyes. Those eyes contained the suit's visor. It should have been a sight to behold, but was frightening. It was a beauty that betrayed arrogance and told you that you were inferior. That you are a small bug that will soon be crushed. That I will crush you when you do not amuse me. Gods-she was beginning to think in that mask...
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Hours later, after she had examined every square centimetre of the room, another green-clothed attendant appeared, and led her off...
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